


Snow, Santa & Sherlolly 2017

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Drabble Collection, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Ice Skating, Mistletoe, POV Molly Hooper, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Snow and Ice, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: It's beginning to look a lot like a Sherlolly winter wonderland.





	Snow, Santa & Sherlolly 2017

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mouse9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/gifts), [SimplyShelbs16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShelbs16/gifts), [IdrisSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/gifts), [Ethanamide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethanamide/gifts), [CumberCougars (lunacatd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacatd/gifts), [katemiller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemiller/gifts), [mychakk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychakk/gifts), [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> Drabbles written for the participants in the 2017 round of Sherlolly Secret Santa on Tumblr.

Sherlock wasn't sure what amused him more, the snow decorating the top of Molly's head or the look of outright shock on her face, but she knew John would die under a hail of snowballs if she had her way. She brushed the snow away and then turned to him. "I want to _obliterate_ him," she said. 

"And I will be more than glad to help. With my aim, I feel we can get a few headshots." 

Molly's grin was feral and the gleam in her eyes only moderately scary. "Perfect."

****

\---

"Snow angels? Are you sure?" Sherlock asked his goddaughter. Rosie nodded emphatically and then plopped herself on the ground before yanking him down too. For a young girl, she had remarkable body strength. He tried not to think of how wet the Belstaff was going to be, but after a moment he began to enjoy himself, so much so that he didn't hear the telltale "click" of a camera, and it wasn't until Mary showed him the photo Molly had taken of them playing.

****

\---

It was quiet, so quiet she could swear she'd hear a mouse run across the floor if there were any in Baker Street. She knew it was after midnight, practically Christmas morning, and she pulled herself away from Sherlock to put her special gift in the stocking she insisted they hang up. It seemed right and proper to propose on Christmas, she thought, even if he'd never expect it.

Little did she know, nestled in the tree, was a ring box for her as well.

****

\---

"It's really lovely out," Molly said as they sat at the side of the skating rink, watching Rosie glide around in costume. "I'm glad the weather held up."

"You know we'd be here rain, snow or otherwise," Sherlock said, gripping his cup of coffee to get warmth into his hands. 

"Well, I hope you feel the same way if our child wants to ice skate," Molly said, giving him a warm smile. 

Sherlock was stunned for a moment and then grinned. This was the best present ever.

****

\---

"Daddy!" Sherlock turned and frowned. He had on the ridiculous suit, padding at the chest and midsection, and a rather realistic snowy white beard. How did his son know he wasn't the real Santa? Then he heard Molly's muffled laughter and saw her pointing to his head. Blast it all, his wig was askew.

"I can explain," he said, but Timothy didn't seem to care if the arms wrapped around his legs were any indication. Well, at least he had _tried_...

****

\---

He held his newborn daughter close, pacing around the hospital room. Born Christmas Day at exactly midnight, Annabelle Louise was the perfect (and perfectly unexpected) Christmas present. Molly had been due in a week but Annabelle just needed to be with family on Christmas day, apparently. "You couldn't wait a week and be born on New Years?" he asked with a smile, then kissed her gently. "Never mind. Impatience is a Holmes trait. Merry Christmas, my angel."

****

\---

The crash from the sitting room woke Molly up, and the first thing she did was reach for Sherlock. When she found he wasn't in bed next to her, the second thing she did was grab her Taser. Creeping downstairs, she was ready to attack her intruder...until she saw it was Sherlock putting her tree to rights. Her laughter startled him and he turned, letting go of the tree, which fell to the side again.

"Toby did it," he said. 

"I'm sure," Molly said, eyes twinkling. 

****

\---

The snow flurries were coming down faster and harder, and she knew she wouldn't be leaving Baker Street tonight. Not that it was a _bad_ thing, but this was a new step for them, for her to stay with him and not the other way around. But he pressed a mug of hot cocoa into her hands as he stood by the window with her, close but not touching, and she knew that even though it wasn't the Christmas she had expected, it may just be her best Christmas ever.

****

\---

"I've seen blue and white, and red and green are obviously Christmas, but...black and purple?" Molly asked, looking at the lights Sherlock handed her.

"Well, I thought that the tree looked awfully...Chritmasy," he said, leading her back upstairs. She looked at the tree which now had Halloween decorations on it and a snowflake-type chain made of cutout skulls on the wall. 

Suddenly she grinned widely and leaned in, kissing Sherlock's cheek. "Best idea ever."

****

\---

"I'm going to fall!" Molly shrieked before she landed on her arse on the solid ice. It had been _years_ since she'd gone skating, but Rosie insisted and she never said no to her goddaughter.

Suddenly she felt warm hands helping her up, and once she was upright, though a bit unsteady, she reached for the hands Sherlock had extended towards her. "Hold tight," he said, moving in front of her. Of _course_ he'd be bloody good at this...but at least he wasn't laughing.

****

\---

"I swear, I haven't baked this much in ages," Molly said, looking around the kitchen. One daughter was licking the spoon for the batch of millionaire bars they'd made and the other was using her finger to get batter out of the bowl.

"At least Santa will be pleased," Sherlock said, swanning in and taking one of the sugar cookies decorated with edible glitter. 

"Santa's helper better help eat them," Molly said, glaring slightly and lapping his hand. 

"Of course."

****

\---

"How do you know how to play?" Sherlock asked in surprise as Molly skated around him, making an easy goal.

"My mother taught me," she said with a smirk, leaning on the hockey stick. He was _sure_ this was something he'd easily beat her at, with their competitive streak this holiday going strong, but perhaps he was mistaken. 

She skated around him easily with the puck. "Let's make this more interesting," she said. 

"How?" he asked. 

"A kiss a goal," she said, grinning.

****

\---

The violin filled the air, it's beautiful sounds accompanying her efforts at decorating the flat. Mrs. Hudson had made the rum punch extra rummy, it seemed, and she found herself singing the lyrics to the carol Sherlock played. He watched with a warm smile on his face, his eyes only on her. She never sang out loud, not in front of a crowd, except for him, and the fact she was in such good cheer seemed to cheer him as well, as he made sure to play her favourites.

****

\---

"Mistletoe is a parasitic flora," Sherlock said with a frown.

"If you let me put it up, I'll make sure I drag you under multiple times and snog the daylights out of you," Molly said with a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips. 

Sherlock considered it, then tossed the little green bundle on the chair before pulling her into his arms. She laughed but held him close. "Who says I need mistletoe to kiss my wife?" he asked, leaning in. 

"Absolutely no one."

****

\---

"Star or angel?" Molly asked, holding up two tree toppers.

Sherlock considered them, then went over to Billy and picked him up. 

"Skull?" he suggested. 

"He'll fall off the top and break and then your best friend would be in the dustbin," Molly said. 

"John's too big for the bin," Sherlock said with a smirk. 

"Smartarse," Molly said, smiling as she shook her head. "Now. Star or angel?" 

"Star, I suppose," he said, smiling back.

****

\---

"Die Hard _is_ a Christmas movie!" Molly said. "So's the first sequel."

"You can't watch it with the children, though," Sherlock pointed out. "I always thought that was a deciding factor in what was a Christmas movie." 

"When Jonathan and Kate are older, I'm going to let them watch Gremlins," Molly said. 

Sherlock shook his head. "Let's start with The Grinch." 

"The new one?" Sherlock nodded. "He does have a lovely voice, I suppose. Alright. The Grinch it is."

****

\---

She hadn't been aiming for him. She'd been aiming for Greg, to get back at him for laughing at her when a huge snowdrift fell off the room of her flat and onto her head after she'd hosted a holiday party. But Sherlock had moved at the wrong time and she hit him in the back of the head with the snowball. She was mortified as he turned, then knelt down and scooped up a handful of snow.

"This, Molly dear, means war," he said before lobbing the snowball.

****

\---

They were curled up on the sofa, Babes In Toyland playing on the telly. Not the modern version, but the rather kitschy Disney version Molly loved from her youth. It struck him then that this was all he wanted: every Christmas Eve to be like this, every Christmas morning waking up with her next to him and the wonder of the holiday season being fresh. He knew, then, he might have a call to make to Mummy to ask for his grandmother's ring before Christmas dinner.

****

\---

She wasn't surprised to see him pull out his violin once all the gifts were given; she knew he had been working on a composition for weeks now. But what was unexpected was how lovely it was. Truly the best she had ever heard from him, even better than the waltz he'd done for John and Mary. When he was done she clapped, and he bowed with a twinkle in his eye. She knew then there was a recording of that song now, and she was going to find it if it killed her. 


End file.
